Chapter 144 – Estela POV
It was awkward at first, working here. Walking into a space full of strangers who all had their own pain, their own survival stories, and thinking—what the hell am I doing here?
But bit by bit, it changed.
The ladies here are sweet. Sharper than they seem, but soft in the ways that matter. I didn't expect to like them this much. Now I find myself looking forward to our mornings—tea brewing in chipped mugs, the scent of something half-burnt in the kitchen, the easy laughter that only comes after surviving hell and learning how to live again.
I've been trying out new things, too. Hobbies, Daphne calls them. Apparently, that's what people with stable lives do.
Baking? I'm getting there. No longer producing hockey pucks made of flour and despair. My last banana bread was only mildly cardboard. The girls clapped anyway.
